


Help He Needs

by Fireflykat



Category: Primeval
Genre: Character Death Fix, Dark Past, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Not Beta Read, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27168418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fireflykat/pseuds/Fireflykat
Summary: Stephen finds Connor in his bed when he wakes up with no memory of the night before. When Connor is gone before Stephen is done in the shower, Stephen starts digging into Connor's past. How will the team react to what they find? Stephen death fix-it. Set after Stephen was supposed to die in the menagerie. Becker still hired.
Relationships: Hilary James Becker/Connor Temple, Stephen Hart/Connor Temple
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. What happened?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [True Love](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/704566) by SCWLC. 
  * Inspired by [Losing Touch](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/704572) by SCWLC. 



> TW; Sexual Abuse, abuse, and behavioral training included. might get dark. sorry
> 
> First AO3 fic. posted on FF also

Stephen woke up to a blinding headache and no recollection of what had happened last night. Therefore, it surprised him to see Connor Temple, a student of his friend and mentor, Nick Cutter's, cuddled up next to him. He had never really given much thought to the boy. He seemed impetuous, capricious, and a little childish. He also swore that the kid was after Abby, which was why it surprised him even more to take not that both of them were completely naked. Stephen raked his eyes over the body in his arms, who was still wearing his fingerless gloves, and was taking note of a few worrying details; his pale face, the fading bruise and old scar around his neck, the rising bruise around his skinny upper arm, when he had the sudden urge to vomit.

He tried to get out of bed as carefully as he could, so he didn't wake the student, then ran quietly to the bathroom and shut the door. He reasoned that he had decided to down a bunch of alcohol without the intake of food, then engage in exercise. Which made him even drunker than just the alcohol, if he had decided to have it with food, and the exercise on an empty -alcohol laden stomach- made him sick. It took a while for that undesirable aftereffect of alcohol poisoning to wear off. By the time he looked at his watch, it was roughly the time to start getting ready for work. So, he got up, took a shower and finally left the bathroom with a towel around his waist, ready to wake the sleeping kid in his bed.

What he was surprised to see, however, was that he was gone. The bed was made, his used clothes were made and sitting at the foot of the bed, and the living room was spotless. He went into the kitchen to see if Connor was in there. He wasn't. all that was there were 3 large bottles of whiskey that had been carefully rinsed and set aside, two smaller bottles of vodka that had likewise been rinsed and set aside, and a single can of cider that was also rinsed and set aside. He guessed that Connor didn't know where his recycling bin was, if he did, all evidence of their night together would have already been erased. Considering he noticed that he had also started the wash with what he recognized were his sheets and duvet cover. The boy had literally tried to erase his existence from the flat. Stephen looked closer at the bottles of alcohol that were rinsed out and recognized all five. They were from his collection. Most of them had only had a single pull or a dozen mixed drinks left in them before last night. They were a bunch of different brands. From many different places he had traveled to. He sighed. He got that bottle of Whiskey from Nick, it was actually Scotch Whisky. He was pretty mad at himself for deciding to finish it at a point when he couldn't remember anything.

Then he noticed a note that made him feel incredibly confused. This on top of everything else. There was something wrong that he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was only two words, he didn't even sign his name. it was just written clearly "Nothing Happened" at the bottom the newspaper which he seemed to have gone out to buy, because he didn't get the news delivered, and was right next to two tablets of paracetamol and a glass of water. It was also written in pencil, which he had to had to great lengths to find as opposed to the many ball point pens in a cup by the telephone. This was supposed to be able to be erased.

Something about all this troubled Stephen. This wasn't natural behavior. As humans we have evolved to want to leave a mark. That is our evolutionary trait. It doesn't matter if it's a large mark, but any mark that is recognizable. To someone. This was learned behavior. Someone had clearly taught this kid. And apparently enough for it to be engrained into him long after they had stopped seeing each other. Stephen suddenly thought back to the marks he had noticed that morning on Connor's body and felt a mixture of sickness and fury. What had happened in Connor's past to make him devalue himself so much? _Wait_. He suddenly thought. _Some of those cuts and scars looked pretty fresh._

Was all this really in the past? He knew nothing about the kid outside of working in the ARC. The only thing that he talked about was either work related (or tangential), or about some show or comic or book or conspiracy theory. He never talked about his life. The only thing he ever told Stephen was how he ended up at Abby's. And that was only because Stephen found out by accident. He never explained the reason he needed to stay though. Not really.

Stephen decided to start watching the student closer in the meantime. His instincts told him that confronting him would just make Connor panic. So, he decided to wait and watch. See where he goes. Be a silent protector for the time being.

* * *

Connor hurt. He just hurt. And for some reason the ache in his chest that felt like a 10kg weight was sitting on it wasn't feeling any lighter. Normally a vicious shag would help. It has done in the past. So why does he just feel worse? He felt like his instability was increasing since Tom died. People normally said that grief passes with time, but since Tom died 8 months ago, he had found it harder and harder to keep his persona alive. And the half-life between his punishments was getting smaller. He shouldn't have answered the phone last night. Not the second time.

Connor didn't move as he felt Stephen stir. He wanted to wait until the older man got into the shower, so he could make his exit. As had been drilled into him. It was what was expected, he was just sorry that he couldn't do it before Stephen awoke. It would have totally kept him in the dark, but no, there wasn't time. He felt the sheets move and sensed Stephen's eyes on his naked body. Dully, he wondered why Stephen was even looking Thankfully it didn't last that long. It seemed Stephen didn't enjoy the sight (Connor knew he wouldn't, he is a man, Stephen likes women), because he got out of bed and padded down the hall. He heard vomiting in the toilet and a voice in his head said to him over and over, "disappear". He sighed and sat up. Then he forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat, and blink back his tears. He shook out his arms and his head as if to clear it. Then got up and winced. His back hurt and was wondering if any old scars or injuries opened up when the lab tech pounded into him last night. He had also noticed as he shook out his arms that his right forearm hurt immensely, while his left one was incredibly sore. He looked down at his arm and saw his own bite mark cutting deep into the flesh. Then he rotated his left arm a bit and remembered, Stephen had grabbed onto it and pinned it behind him when they were going from behind. _No use just sitting and wallowing,_ he told himself, _things to do_. He looked around for his pants, and put them on, uncomfortably realizing that Stephen never used a condom. _Deal with it later,_ he told himself. He finished getting dressed and stripped the bed of sheets and duvet cover. Anything that pointed to their sexual encounter the night before. He took them to the kitchen and put them next to the wash.

Then he made his way to the living room and gathered up all the bottles of alcohol that had been consumed the night before. And his single can of cider that he brought over. He removed the caps and rinsed each out carefully, sadly noticing the bottle of Scotch Whisky Professor Cutter had given Stephen the Christmas before among the empty bottles. There wasn't anything he could do. Most of them had already been consumed by the time he had been called. When he finished, he looked around for a recycling bin, but there was nothing in sight. So, he placed all the items neatly by the sink. Then he turned his attention to the sheets. He found each one of the stains made by them and scrubbed thoroughly with soap and water under the faucet before, one by one, placing them in the wash. He had to spend longer on the fitted sheet because there were blood stains on that one, and he was never very good at washing out blood. He finally placed the final sheet into the wash and started it as he heard the shower start in the bathroom. He went back into the bedroom, rummaged around until he found another set of sheets, and made the bed, found Stephen's clothes and folded them, and placed them carefully at the foot of the bed. Then he quickly and efficiently cleaned up the living room. He had brought some paracetamol with him, which he removed a few tablets from the packet, went back into the kitchen and placed on the counter. Then found a glass and looked in the refrigerator for a water jug. He found some plastic water bottles, so he grabbed one, smelled it, and filled the glass, setting the glass down next to the tablet.

He looked at his watch it was 6:30, and they needed to be in to work by 9. Abby normally got up by about 7. So, he needed to hurry up. He grabbed his coin purse, and Stephen's keys, and hurried out the door. Found a vendor selling a newspaper, and came back in record time, relieved to hear that Stephen was still in the shower. Connor then rummaged in his bag, pulled out a pencil, put the keys back where he found them, and went back into the kitchen with the paper. He placed the paper next to the paracetamol and the water, wrote on the bottom "Nothing happened" just to reassure the man that he wasn't expecting anything, made sure he had everything he came with, grabbed his bag, and ran out the door just as he heard the shower stop.

It was exactly 6:55 when Connor snuck through the front door of Abby's apartment. He just reached his room when her alarm went off. "I call the shower first!" She yelled up to him, and he groaned assent just like he would every other day of the week. He was thankful that she decided to go first. It would give him a chance to further decide how to deal with what went on. He went to their toilet, the one without a shower, and took off his trousers and pants. He would need to wash both right away if he was going to keep them, he assessed. Then he took toilet paper and tried to wipe away the thick substance running down the back of his legs. His stomach started to hurt. And not just from stress.

Connor tried to clean himself out as best he could, but he was right before when he thought that there had been some damage done. it made it difficult to do on his own, and incredibly painful. It had been a while since this sort of thing was necessary. He had gotten slack, started trusting people again. That was a mistake. He sighed and stood up. Put his pants back on and grabbed his trousers before carefully opening the door to check that the water in the shower was still running. Then he ran back up the stairs to his room. He heard the water turn off and stripped himself of the rest of his clothes, besides vest and pants. Looked through his drawers to find something as "Connor" as possible, careful to choose something with long sleeves, placed them all neatly on his bed, rummaged in the back of his sock drawer for a cream special for these occasions, and was placing it in between the layers of his clothes when he heard a chirp from above him and he looked up. Rex was on the rafters, looking at him with quizzical, almost concerned eyes.

"It's fine, Rex," he said, trying and failing to give his regular innocent and dimpled smile. "Dontcha worry 'bout someone like me." he grabbed his towel and was about to leave the loft when he muttered "I've had worse". Then he greeted Abby with a nod as she left the bathroom and took his turn.

* * *

"HEY! You should get ovr heer" said a very drunk voice on the phone, as soon as Connor picked up

"Stephen?" Connor said, slightly worried about the intoxicated nature of his coworkers tone, but also secretly happy at being asked over to his flat "Are you alright?"

"Waii… is this connor?" Stephen asked, slightly surprised through his intoxication. "What are you doing there?"

"You called me" Connor replied his heart sinking lower than it had been before.

"Wrong person" Stephen said nonchalantly "Bye" and hung up.

Connor was heartbroken. For the first time he had let himself crush on someone. He had actually been nursing a small crush on the older student of Professor Cutter's since the first time he saw him in the lecture hall. He decided he wasn't worth having someone care about that way and forgot about it until they started working in the on the anomalies. Then the feelings started coming back. But stronger, because he started to see how strong, fearless, smart, and sophisticated Stephen was. But he knew it would never work. So, he tried to get interested in Abby. Or at least seem like he was. While it's true that he was technically bisexual, he leaned more towards men than women. And toward Stephen over Abby. Really, advice on Abby was just an excused to talk to Stephen about something other than work. He still didn't really think he was worth having someone care of him like that, but he was good at pretending. It was all he knew since middle school. But he did enjoy Abby's company, and being around her. She was becoming his best friend. But he didn't really see her as anything more. So, when Stephen called that night, he had risen Connor's hopes up, and then brought a hammer down on them. Now Connor needed a drink. Or a shag.

He finished up his work for the night at the ARC, grabbed his back, made his way to a pub in SoHo he was once a regular at. One that Tom had pulled him away from. The same one he had started frequenting more and more since his death. He pulled open the door and grabbed a spot at the bar in recesses of the corner. A drink was put in front of him and he looked up at the bartender. "Your usual" the bartender said with a wink.

"Thanks, Phil" Connor said, giving his pale cider a sip.

"What's wrong chickadee?" said another man, taller and thinner than the last, coming over and leaning on Phil's shoulder.

"Nothing" Said Connor, giving a brilliant imitation of his usual smile. Phil's eyes were on his though, and soon the smile slipped. Phil looked slightly concerned. Connor gave a large gulp of his cider, then shook his head to clear it, and smacked his face. Then he gave another brilliant smile "Really, nothing."

"Connor!" Said a loud voice as the door opened. The large man who just entered came over and put his arm around Connor's shoulders "Last week was the best shag I had ever had!" Connor had frozen at the sound of the large man's voice. His eyes like those of a deer in the headlights. "Rob," the man turned to another man who came in with him "Wasn't it great?"

"We should do it again!" The other man, Rob, said sniggering. He addressed the rest of the group and said loudly so the entire pub could hear "This kid will do anything you want, and shag anyone, last week there were four of us!"

"Get out of here Bernard" The taller of the two Bartenders said. "and take your cronies with you, you know we don't approve of that behavior."

"Shut it, Liam!" Hissed another one of the big man's friends, "you can't talk, you used to be the sluttiest lay in the joint"

Phil wrapped his arm protectively around Liam's waist. "You and your friends need to leave my pub Bernard." He said firmly. Phil was stocky, and 100% muscle. One of those kinds of guys you don't want to mess with. He may be shorter than you, but he was in the army, and it showed. He proudly showed off his bullet wound and dog tags as a sign that he would do whatever he needed to protect what was his. And it was very clear that Liam, was his.

Connor just sat there, looking down at his fingerless gloved hands that were clutching his cider, not moving. Not pushing Bernard's arm off his shoulders, not contradicting anything that was being said about him, just frozen. "Let's go, Connor," Bernard pulled the boy with him and Connor let himself be led away. Bernard rummaged in his pockets and pulled out a few pounds, held it up to Phil "for the drink" he smirked then left it on the counter and made his way out of the pub, pulling the student with him. "We are going to have some fun tonight, aren't we?" Connor briefly glanced up with pleading eyes at Phil and Liam before flicking them back down with a wince, as Bernard squeezed his upper arm tighter and whispered in his ear "you are mine, remember that."

Phil and Liam looked at each other wondering if they should intercede. Then Connor glanced at them one last time and gave them the smallest shake of the head before being pulled out of the pub by a man twice his size and a half dozen of his cronies.

Bernard had pulled him into an ally way and started to take his trousers off when Connor's phone rang. Connor pushed himself away from the big man for the first time and looked at the caller ID.

"Connor?" Stephen said over the phone

"It me you want this time?" Connor asked wryly

"Thisss is your numbr innit?" Stephen chuckled, obviously still very drunk. Connor didn't say anything "please, comeby night. talk?" he said questioningly.

Connor sighed and pulled his hat over his eyes for a second, then straightened up. "Sure, of course, I will be there in twenty minutes- Don't drink anymore!" he shut his phone and felt a hand on his upper arm again and remember where he was. _Shit_. He turned around with an apologetic smile and said "Sorry, guys," Connor held up his phone. "Work thing. Can't do anything about it." Then he wriggled out of Bernard's grasp and ran like hell.

It was lucky he was fast. And had stamina. And was smart. Because those fucking cronies were persistent. They weren't the brightest bulbs in the flower sack though. He was able to ditch them by doubling around and taking a train or two in either direction out of the way. Since Stephen's flat was really only about a 5-minute walk from where he had started, with all the running and doubling back, and trains, he finally made it there, after making a stop to pick up a cider, exactly 20 minutes after he hung up the phone. He was pretty proud of himself. He was completely out of breath by the time he showed up at Stephen's front door though. He took a few deep breaths and tried to steady himself before knocking on the door. He still had no idea why Stephen was drunk in the middle of the week, but he figured, he would find out.

Connor's breath hitched in his throat. The door opened to a grinning SHIRTLESS Stephen, who dragged him through the door and gave him a huge hug. A hug that picked him right up off his feet "CONNOR!" He said happily. "You came!" the student nodded and tapped where he could reach.

"Can't, breath…" he gasped as Stephen looked down at his face. The older man let him go quickly.

"Sorry!" Stephen said sheepishly. His face was red from all the liquor, but he was relatively steady on his feet. All things considered. "No one else would come" he gave a large pout.

"Well, you gave me a chance to get away from... never mind" He mumbled, seeing Stephen wasn't really listening. "What did you need?" he asked with a false brightness.

Stephen lead him to the living room where there were four empty bottles of liquor scattered all over the floor. Connor took of his shoes, and dropped his bag by the entrance, grabbing his can of cider before following him.

They both sat down on the couch and Stephen put his head in his hands. "You think I'm pathetic, don't you?" he asked, looking straight at Connor, incredibly articulate for someone who had had that much to drink.

"Why would I think that?" Connor asked, seriously

"For being manipulated by someone like Helen Cutter." Stephen said as he grabbed another bottle that was almost empty and brought it to his lips.

Connor put his hand on Stephens, catching the hand before it could put bottle to lips. "You have had too much to drink" he said gently. "That's enough. And, no, is the answer." He said. "Kind people trust easily. It's in our nature. I mean, your nature. Both you and Professor Cutter were deceived by her. It's not easy being the one on the side of the manipulated. You feel like you can't trust anyone now, because one person who you genuinely loved with all your heart let you down so callously, someone who you thought you knew, who you understood, now you doubt. You are doubting everything, everyone, even yourself, right? You blame yourself because you should have seen the signs." Stephen stared at him as he talked, Connor flushed "No," he said again "You are not pathetic, you are a kind, empathetic, and trusting person. That's why Helen chose you. Don't let her change that about you" Stephen leaned forward and kissed him. The hand without the bottle wrapping around Connor's neck, pulling him in close, lips locking together.

Connor was startled, but his heart flew as Stephen kissed him. _Well, he's not drinking anymore,_ Connor thought to himself as he took the bottle from Stephen's hand absently and placed on the coffee table, then ran his hand through the older man's hair while he licked the man's lips hesitantly. Stephen obliged and shoved his tongue into the younger man's mouth while he pushed Connor's hat off his head and ran a hand down his back, a small moan escaped Connor. Conner sat on his knees next to Stephen looking like he wanted to climb into the older man's lap, but restraining himself, instead he expertly unbuckled Stephen's belt and trousers, putting one hand into his pants and started to stroke the rock-hard member between the ungloved forefingers. He pulled away from the kiss, and immediately wrapped his mouth around the large cock in his hands.

Stephen felt too good to question the kid's odd combination of techniques and mannerisms. The lab tech came the first time without even noticing what happened. He just saw Connor sitting, as if waiting for instruction on what to do next. His eyes were lowered, and hands together as if bound in his lap, some cum still on his face. There was a nagging concern within Stephen that he couldn't quite place at the moment, due to lust and intoxication. Instead he grabbed the boy by the wrist and threw him on the bed. Almost as if this was expected, Connor got up went to his bag, and grabbed a bottle and ran to the bathroom, after five minutes he came back out, undressed completely, moved the duvet carefully so it wouldn't get dirty, and posed himself so he was on his knees, facing away from Stephen with his head down. An ideal angle for the older man. Stephen was too hard to think about it much, instead, he undressed as quickly as he could, positioned himself behind the kid, and dived in fast and raw.

It was tight and wet. He could hear muffled moans and cries from the kid whose eyes, he noticed, were shut tight, tears slipping through. As he thrust hard in and out, it seemed that it was feeling better, for him and Connor, there weren't any muffled cries anymore. He leaned over his back to put his head close to Connor's and saw teeth clenched on his arm. "Shh, hey hey, it's ok." He said in Connor's ear trying to pull the arm away. But Connor shook his head as he rocked his hips to Stephen's rhythm. Stephen turned Connor over, but Connor grabbed a pillow and hid his face, the other hand covering his own hard on. Covering it, Stephen noted, but not actually touching it, as if covering it from sight. But he also noted that the hand covering the smaller man's hard on was the one with the bite mark, so at least he wasn't still biting it.

The muffled moans were amazing to Stephen's ears. He wanted to hear them louder. He had a feeling though that wouldn't happen. He wanted to see if he could try though. He changed position again pulling the kid up into his lap. "Connor," He said gently "Grab me around the neck" He said, leaning the student against him and trying to pull the pillow away. Connor desperately shook his head. Stephen tried the bitten arm, still in between them. He tried bringing it up to wrap it around his neck. It was as though Connor had locked it in place. Stephen tried moving gently. Slower. He could hear the breath hitch in the pillow, and saw tears pouring from his eyes. Finally, frustrated, he turned Connor around again, so his back was facing Stephen once more, took advantage of the relaxing of the arms, grabbed the arm with the pillow pinned it behind his back and pushed him back into the bed. Connor didn't object, nor did he cry, or struggle. He let Stephen do what he like with him, until finally Connor passed out. It was only then that Stephen noticed that the kid kept his gloves on the whole time. He also started noticing some scars that looked suspiciously like whip marks covering his back. Of course, he saw the scars from the injuries at the ARC. But there were more. A lot more

As Stephen collapsed next to Connor, and pulled him close, pulling a sheet over them, he started thinking. He always thought of Connor as a very innocent kid, possibly a virgin. Obviously, he wasn't the latter, but, while he may be innocent, it looks like he may have had a darker past than anyone realized. A sudden fury lit in him while he looked at the student who was unconscious in his arms. The traces of tears ran down Connor's cheeks. He wiped them away with a soft thumb. He was suddenly feeling a protectiveness over him that he hadn't felt before. His head was still swimming from the alcohol, so he wondered if he would remember any of this when he woke up. He hoped so. He had been with men before, as an experiment in college, but he always considered himself mostly straight. He also never expected to fall in love again. Especially after Helen had broken his heart. But somehow, it was as though Connor knew exactly what it was like to have trust manipulated. As though he could empathize. Everything he said was so exactly right. He hadn't been sure why he had kissed Connor at that moment. Was it pity? No, he hadn't pitied him. He just, understood. Completely. Having someone use you, let you fall in love with them, then use that love you feel for them to manipulate you so completely. Had something like that been done to him to? He wasn't sure what to do now. He just liked the feeling of Connor in his arms. So, he curled up, and went to sleep.


	2. Help!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New hire, Becker, knows one of Connor's secrets. But Connor feels really sick

The next day it seemed like an unspoken arrangement between Connor and Stephen not to discuss what had happened the night before. Connor was his usual cheery self, dimpled smiles to everyone, and Stephen was his normal quiet brooding self. The only difference was that Stephen's gaze seemed to stray towards Connor a lot more when they were doing individual work. He was noticing a few peculiarities that he had never seen before. He had very sudden mood shifts, when he was working alone, when he saw someone coming or heard someone approaching. It was almost unnatural. It _was_ unnatural. Studying it from afar, he also started noticing something off with his cheerful persona. He seemed to be trying almost too hard to make it work. "-phen" Cutter said snapping him out of his thoughts. "Stephen!" Stephen looked around "Just talk to the kid, you're drilling a hole straight through his head the way you stare like that" the Professor said, chuckling. "Anyway, I never knew you were interested in guys, or Connor." There was a mischievous light in his eyes. "He would be a good bit of honesty after everything with Helen" then his eyes turned serious "Don't. Hurt. Him" He said sharply.

Stephen put up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "It's nothing like that, I was just noticing a few things about him" Stephen said, a little uncomfortable. Cutter looked at him not understanding. "Do you ever sense that there is something… _off_ with Connor?"

Cutter looked serious, and slightly concerned "What do you mean? With the whole conspiracy things and stuff?"

Stephen shook his head "I mean the way he behaves, like, his cheerful happy self that we expect and maybe was once there is just… not? Just an act? That he only puts on when people are watching?"

Cutter shrugged, "It's not that weird to put on an act, we all do"

"True," Stephen said, "But it seems like there is something more in this case. Like he wants people to think he is disposable, because _he_ thinks of _himself_ as disposable. He never really leaves anything that is his anywhere. I even looked in his locker. It's empty."

Cutter looked surprised. "Really? That is slightly odd."

"Think of those creature encounters we have had" Stephen continues. "He insisted that he was logistics and backup, but anytime anyone needed anything, or any time there were too many to handle, he would jump right in. He doesn't have the skill for that. How many times has he been hurt leading a creature away from one of us so that we can make ourselves better equipped to deal with it?" Cutter considered this.

"That's true, I always just thought it was because that was the kind of person he is. Puts others over himself. But he really has NO regard for his own safety." Cutter watched Connor closely for a moment. "Is it me or does he look unusually pale? Why is he in today?"

Stephen glanced over at the student again, who was in fact pale and had sweat on his neck and looked shivery. "Got me, you know, I don't think I have ever seen him take a sick day. He even comes in on weekends sometimes, and stays late a lot"

Cutter nodded, "I've noticed that, I thought he was just diligent"

"I wonder if Abby has seen anything unusual at home"

"I will keep watching the kid, you talk to Abby" Stephen nodded.

Just as he was making his way down the hall Lester called them all into the Hub for an announcement.

"We have had too many people making too many stupid decisions recently, so I have assigned a security detail. This is Captain Becker." Lester gestures over to a very fit man in all black who is at attention and whose face is completely stoic. "Becker, this is Abby Maitland, Stephen Hart, Nick Cutter, Jenny Lewis, and Connor Temple. Cutter, please try to let him do his job, won't you?"

Cutter just mumbles about doing his job and walks away. Connor looks at Captain Becker. Attempts to give him his normal radiant smile hopes he succeeds, and goes back to his spot at the ADD. For a moment he swore he recognized him from the pub last night. He had been there when Connor had gotten there. Or so he thought. Maybe? It was hard to tell because that man was smiling, and sometimes expressions make all the difference.

He felt a hand on the back of his chair and someone whispered in his ear, "What is a cute thing like you, doing with a bastard like Bernard?" Connor felt a flush rise in his cheeks. Apparently, he wasn't wrong. He looked at Captain Becker who had a small smile but also a look of blazing ferocity behind his eyes. "I almost went after you last night. I was relieved when I saw you got away."

"I'd like to get to know you, if you let me. Connor, wasn't it?" he stretched his arms so that both hands were on the keyboard, one on either side of the student. "We will be working together, we should get to know each other" he practically whispered into Connor's ear.

Connor got up and ducked under Becker's arm, heading for his laptop. He scanned the room making sure no one was around. "You don't need to get to know me, I'm no one." He said firmly, "I don't matter. Unless you want a blowjob, find someone else." He then walked away down the hall to his lab and shut the door behind him. He leaned on it for a moment. He wasn't feeling that great today. He was really cold, his stomach hurt. He had the chills. He wished he brought a jacket today. Oh well. He moved away from the door and promptly collapsed unconscious and shivering onto the floor.

* * *

Nick had started watching Connor since Stephen brought it to his attention, so far, he hadn't noticed anything completely out of the ordinary except he did seem to be paler than normal. And not standing straight. He kept on taking off his hat to wipe away the sweat. If anything, he looked extremely sick. Then he watched the new captain wander over to Connor and the student give a jump, turning even paler, and yet still managing to flush out of embarrassment. They exchanged words that Cutter couldn't hear but saw the look on Connor's face which was quite different than normal. Then he saw Connor go into his lab and shut the door. A moment passed when there was a soft thump. Cutter ran to the door and pulled it open. "CONNOR!" he shouted, shaking the young man by the arm. He was extremely pale and sweat was running down his face. He was clenching his stomach and was wearing a pained expression. "MEDIC!" he called down the hall "We need a medic in the technical lab! ASAP!" Captain Becker, being the closest ran over, a shocked look on his face.

He picked the student up in his arms bridal style and said to Cutter "Which way is the medical bay?"

Nick led him, barging in to the medics just a few moments before Becker arrived with the unconscious Conner in his arms. The medics acted swiftly, they brought out a gurney, had Becker place the student on it, and rolled him away to a private area where they could examine him.

Becker sat down in one of the chairs while Cutter paced. "What were you two talking about upstairs?" Becker didn't say anything "Listen, I'm the only one who saw, but I won't be the only who cares, if these two things are related. I won't tell anybody else if they aren't. But you better say quick because the others will be here any moment."

Becker sighed. "I saw him at a pub last night, that's all." Cutter looked surprised.

"That's it?" he asked?

"The pub was in SoHo" he met Cutters eyes defiantly.

"And?" Cutter said, clearly understanding but not caring

"He was approached by a very large and loud guy with a bunch of minions and dragged out of there." That got Cutter's attention

"What?!" He said startled and slightly angry

"Yeah, it seemed the large guy, Bernard, knew him, and Connor looked positively terrified but seemed to allow himself to be led out of the pub." Cutter sat next to Becker. Silently allowing him to continue. "So, I watched them outside for a little while, it seemed they had dragged him to an ally close to the pub, but right after he got a call and managed to get away… If they were any longer, or if Connor hadn't gotten away, I would have gone after them. The guy had a reputation, I couldn't see someone like Connor getting mixed up with him." He shook his head. Then thought a minute. "That may explain why he said he wasn't worth getting to know" he said to himself

Cutter looked at him startled. "What did he say?"

Becker ran a hand through his hair "So, I've seen it with a few of my girlfriends, by that I mean friends who are girls, who were in abusive relationships. Their self-worth goes completely down the drain. Its rooted in something much deeper, but really, the abuser takes insecurities that are already there and just brings them to the surface, so that the abused considers themselves lucky that the abuser would consider them. I told Connor that I wanted to get to know him, and he said that he wasn't worth getting to know, that he was nobody." He decided to leave out the bit about the blowjob, Becker was still a little too rattled about that.

Cutter chewed the inside of his cheek. Stephen may have a point. There was definitely something about this kid's past that was not only strange, but most likely toxic.

It was that moment that Jenny, Abby, and Stephen entered the medical bay. "What happened?" asked Abby, concern all over her face.

"Honestly, I don't know," said Cutter, "He just collapsed in his lab, deathly pale and shivering."

Stephen looked uncomfortable.

"Stephen, did you do something?" Cutter asked

"Maybe, I actually don't know." Stephen said, "I don't remember what happened last night. The only thing I remember is waking up with Connor in my bed, then when I got out of the shower he was gone, the entire place had been cleaned, linens in the wash and bed made, plus a newspaper some Paracetamol tablets and a note that just said Nothing Happened." Everyone looked quite shocked. Stephen sighed, "I know something happened, there was evidence before he cleaned it all up. But I don't remember what happened, or how it happened, or why it happened." He paused, "Except I think I was really upset over being betrayed by Helen. It was just when I was looking around my apartment at how tidy it was, how he went out of his way to find a pencil for the note when there were a dozen pens right next to him, he had to leave the apartment to get the newspaper, because I don't get it delivered. Then made sure I had medication, which was in the bathroom I was using, so he had to have given me his own, and left before I left the shower. That's a lot of effort. To make it clear that…" he used his fingers as quotation marks. "'Nothing happened.' That's why I started to get worried." He turned to Abby "Did you even know he wasn't home last night?"

"Well, of course, he never came home from the ARC. What was weirder was that he came down from his room like had been there the whole night." she said, thoughtfully

"He didn't go home at all last night?" Stephen asked, surprised "I looked at my call log, the last call I made, to Connor was at 9:00."

"He didn't leave last night until about 8" Lester said. They all spun around, not noticing that he had come down."

Stephen looked at his phone. "Wait… I called Connor twice last night" he looked guilty. "Once at 8, and once at 9"

"That's probably why he went to the pub!" Becker exclaimed with sudden realization then looked around "I said that out loud didn't I? Shit"

Cutter shook his head, "No Becker, please, it makes sense, that is probably the piece that ties it all together. Explain"

Becker sighed. "Ok, I know I don't know you guys, or Connor, really and I'm new, but I think Connor has been domestically abused in the past. Probably has a long history of it." Stephen looked shocked, Abby started crying, Lester looked troubled.

"How do you know?" Lester asked, "Like you said, you just met everyone here."

"Yes, that's true," Becker complied, "But I was also at the pub last night. The one that Connor was at. I saw him arrive, sit in a corner with a lot of shadows he looked incredibly lonely and sad. The bartender seemed to know him, got him a drink without needing to be asked, a second bartender came over to talk. I could see that they looked worried about him. At one point he looked up and gave one of them this possibly happy expression that you could tell didn't reach his eyes, and then just slid directly off his face. It was like he was trying really hard to be happy." Everyone looked sadly at each other. They knew that smile. "It was at this point this large man and his friends arrived and approached him. And he stiffened as soon as he heard the voice. I'm not going to repeat what the guy said, it was vulgar and indecent. Anyway, the man went over and put his arm around Connors shoulders and I could tell from behind that he was incredibly afraid. There was some shouting between the bartenders and the man then the guy pulled Connor off his stool and lead him away. I was keeping an eye on them because it seemed like they were bastards, but it slightly horrified me when, Connor glanced up one time to the bar staff and suddenly his upper arm was in a vice like grip. It was clear the staff wanted to do something, but Connor just looked at them again and gave them a small shake of the head before he was pulled out of the pub."

Stephen was seething "Why didn't you do anything?"

"I was about to" Becker said, "They led him into an ally, I was watching closely from where I was, then seconds later his phone rang, and he was able to make a break for it." Becker sighed, "I think he was scared of what these guys would do to anyone that would help him, more than he was scared for himself. The guy he was with had a reputation." Everyone looked at him as if pressing him to continue. "As in, he was kicked out of some S clubs for being too rough and violating the rules on partner safety." They were all very quiet.

It was at that moment that one of the medics came out

"He has a very high fever and has lost a lot of blood, but we still aren't able to do a full exam because he is partially awake and refusing to let us remove his clothing or take a look at him" The medic said "He also keeps muttering 'good boy' and then phrases like 'behave' or 'don't cry' and 'quiet'. He has also said only once 'my fault'. Any idea what that is about?" The team looked at Stephen

The tracker looked ashamed, "I don't remember what happened last night. But we may have slept together"

The medic shook his head, "this looks like years of ingrained psychological trauma stemming from some sort of abuse going back to childhood probably -given how young he already is. We will need a psych consult, we won't know the nature of the abuse, if it had any physical or sexual component, until a full exam." He said, turning to Lester who was already on the phone.

"We need the best damn child abuse specialist on the government's payroll down here stat for a consult" he said into his phone. Then turning to the medic. "Do whatever it takes, sedate him for all I care, I want a full physical exam, X-rays included" he said.

The medic nodded, turned around and went back into exam room where they could now hear Connor making small whimpers of protest.


	3. Damage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is in the Medi bay, The team learns the extent of the physical damage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW; Talks of Physical and Sexual abuse
> 
> i am not a medical professional, and do not know what, if any of medical knowledge mentioned before is accurate

The exams were worse than they thought, the doctor, Dr. Blaine, sat down with Professor Cutter and Lester the next day to discuss the results. They had needed to keep Connor sedated to make sure he wouldn't flee, so he was sleeping in the other room on IV fluids and he looked a little better after two units of blood. There were a lot of tests they needed to do, to try to figure out the extend of the damage that had been done, but not only that, try to figure out how long it had been going on. First, they needed to figure out the immediate problem. Which was easy enough to diagnose, but a little harder to fix.

"This is extremely personal and private, so if you don't want to discuss the damage, please leave." Lester looked troubled for a moment but grudgingly stayed to hear the problem. Cutter had already resolved himself, and banned the others from coming in. "It seems that improper treatment and continual tearing in the rectal cavity over many years has been built up and finally a few days ago something happened to cause them all to open and collapse. It would have happened during a very rough sexual encounter, but it didn't happen last night. This has been building up over some time. The scar tissue looks to be years old. We took him into emergency surgery to close that bleed yesterday. He should be fine. It's everything else that may be a problem." The doctor pulled out the X-Rays and the photos and lay them on the desk. There were photos of Connor's back, his hands, his throat, and his chest. The X-rays were of, well, everywhere. Cutter and Lester's faces looked grim at the sight of the photos. "These X-rays show evidence of breakages that are at least 15 years old. Normally I would just attribute that to him being a clumsy or adventurous kid, but there are multiple breaks places where it was set improperly to heal inadequately, coupled with these" He held up the photos of his hands and back. They could see cigarette burns and whip marks layering over and over themselves until there was no unblemished skin. "These whip marks go back at least as long. And it looks like some of the burns are even older."

Cutter pointed to one of the pictures on the desk. "Are those fresh?" He asked with a mixture of revulsion and pity. The doctor nodded

"The bruise on his neck is about two weeks old, and the bruise on his arm is a few days."

"What is that?" Lester asked, pointing at one of the X-rays of Connor's shoulder-blade.

"Um, it looks like there are large pieces of metal embedded in his bones. I don't want to do anything, because assessing on how deep it is, it was roughly 5-7 years ago, and it would be healed over by now."

"So, he has improperly set and healed bone breaks, improperly healed wounds both internal and external, and pieces of metal in his skeleton that shouldn't be removed because it was too long ago?" Cutter summed up slowly, glancing over at the still form of Connor in the infirmary bed. Dr. Blaine nodded. "Anything else we should worry about?" he asked with a large sigh, rubbing his forehead and closing his eyes.

"I would think the biggest burden is psychological right now," Dr. Blaine said. "There is probably some residual pain with the improperly healed injuries, but unless we re-brake those bones, we can't really do anything, so it's a bit of a catch-22. In that sense anyway. Really considering how far these injuries go back, this is a huge trauma to be dealing with, so start with that."

Cutter and Lester looked at each other and back to the doctor, then just nodded.

Dr. Pierce came later that day. He was tall and thin, had short wavy light brown hair, hazel eyes and wore a pinstripe suit jacket with a graphic t-shirt and faded jeans, and navy high top converse. He looked to be in his late 20s. Cutter had looked him up online and found that he had two PhDs in one in Psychology another in Sociology, he had written books on surviving domestic violence, sexual violence recovery, and recovering from child abuse. He also volunteered with social services and the domestic violence help center. He seemed pretty perfect. He was also only 28. So, he was a genius. Like Connor.

"Mr. Lester?" He said, stopping in front of Lester, notepad in one hand, the other held out as a sign of greeting. "I'm Pierce, lemme help assess what's happened, then we can chat about how to move ahead forward, yeah?" His accent wasn't quite Yorkshire, but it was definitely northern. Lester couldn't quite place it.

"I'm Cutter," Cutter said from behind, making Pierce turn around, "His professor and friend."

"Nick Cutter?" Pierce asked interested, "The paleontologist? Wicked! I love your work professor!" Cutter narrowed his eyes. "Ah, right." Pierce stood up and took a more professional manner. "Can you break down for me what happened the last few days?"

So, Nick explained, in chronological order the last few days events, as he had learned them, from Becker seeing him at the pub, to Stephen waking up with Connor in his bed, and then the student vanishing without a trace while he was in the shower. Finally, the previous day at the ARC when Becker talked to Connor, his reply, and then collapse.

Pierce wrote furiously while Nick talked. "What happened when you got him into the infirmary? Did he struggle?"

"How did you -?" Nick asked with bewilderment.

"It's fairly common with this sort of abuse history. They are ashamed, but they need it. They use sex as a punishment. I will doubt if Connor has ever gone looking for sex for the pleasure of it. I doubt he even knows how to enjoy it."

Cutter sighed. "Well, yes, we did have to sedate him to get a full exam. He apparently has internal and external injuries that have been let to heal improperly, burns and cuts and tears and stuff, bone breaks that were set improperly before healing, and somehow, he ended up with pieces of metal in his bones. The oldest of any of these injuries are at least 15 years old. So, I don't know what we are dealing with. the freshest look to be a healing bruise around his neck, and a large bruise around his upper arm."

Lester put in "Don't forget the danger he always ends up in here with you lot"

Cutter sighed again. "We have a dangerous job, and he always seems to go out of his way to draw the danger to him and away from us, like he has a death wish."

"He might very well have," Pierce muttered contemplatively. "Do you know if he has ever been in a relationship? Male or female?"

Cutter shook his head. "I have no idea, it certainly LOOKED like he was going after Abby for a while, but now I'm not so sure."

Stephen came around the corner "Duncan might know." They all turned to look at him. "I wasn't prying!" He said, "I was just passing by when I heard the thing about relationships. Duncan, the friend of Connor's who stole the uh…" he looked at Pierce.

Cutter remembered. "He was the other friend of the kid, Tom, the one that died, yeah?" Stephen nodded. "You and Abby go find Duncan, I will stay here."


	4. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen and Abby question Duncan about Connor's past. Connor is awake and meets with a Psychologist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW ; Themes of Psychological and Physical and Sexual abuse. 
> 
> I am not a medical professional, i have no idea if any of the shit i am talking about is real. (I do know about being passively suicidal though, that is a thing, not actively dangerous unless you are in a line of work where you end up being chased by dinosaurs every day)

Duncan cracked the door open with a surly expression on his face. "Yeah?" he looked them up and down. "Hot blond and muscle man, what do you want?"

"We wanted to know a bit about Connor before he met us," Abby said trying to be as gentle as possible.

"Why?" Duncan said skeptically

"he is just being a little un-Connor, and we thought you would have some insights!" she was obviously trying not to make him worry… it wasn't working. Duncan's eyes narrowed.

"For goodness sake Abby!" Stephen said, getting frustrating and pushing her aside. "Do you know anything about any past relationships Connor has been involved in?" that got Duncan's attention

"What'd he do? What's wrong with Connor?" He asked letting go of the door, eyes wide. He backed into the apartment and let them come in after him and shut the door. Duncan sagged onto the couch

"He collapsed yesterday, and one of our coworkers saw him at a pub with someone who is apparently not very friendly." Abby said sympathetically.

"Not again…" Duncan moaned, his head in his hands. Stephen and Abby looked at each other, surprised.

"This has happened before?" Stephen asked, almost accusatorially.

"When we were first becoming mates, he would show up all the time with weird bruises or cuts all over." Duncan started. "One day, Tom and I followed him to this pub, and saw him being led away by these really scary looking guys. We didn't know what to do, they were a lot bigger than us, we couldn't do anything." He looked apologetic then continued "The next time we saw him head that way though, we stopped him and led him back to our place. Connor nearly had a fit. Something about 'I have to' and he said please a lot. Tom was always much better at dealing with Connor when he was in those sorts of moods."

"When was this?" Stephen asked.

"The first time was beginning of our second year of uni" Duncan thought back. "He hadn't gone back home for the summer. He's from Yorkshire, but I've never heard him talk about his family, and he has never gone home. I never wanted to pry because I always assumed he had bad memories of them,"

"Why would you think that," asked Abby "They may be dead, that's why I never go home."

Stephen shook his head. He understood. "If they were just dead, you would still talk about them. If they were abusive and he escaped, you wouldn't want to remember." Duncan nodded.

"So, Tom helped Connor?" Abby prompted.

"Yeah, it took a while, a few months I think, but finally Connor went straight to Tom and we didn't need to detour him anymore. I'm not sure exactly what happened, it was all in Tom's room, I heard them talking, then a lot of crying, Connor shouting sometimes, but towards the end they would always turn up music really loudly for a few hours and Tom would leave the room when Connor was asleep." Stephen and Abby looked at each other perplexed. They understood now why Tom's death was so hard on him. He had basically been an anchor for Connor, keeping him from being too reckless.

Duncan continued "Connor came over a few nights a week at first. But it slowly got to be less frequent. I could tell he wasn't going to the pub because his injuries hadn't returned. He was also happy. Genuinely happy in a way I had never seen before."

"So, was Tom his boyfriend?" Abby asked Duncan looked surprised

"Why would you ask that?" Duncan asked. Apparently, the kid was pretty dense. "Wait, do you mean when they were in Tom's room they would…?"

Abby and Stephen almost laughed at the reaction. Duncan thought about it for a minute then shrugged "Guess its better than a bunch of abusive jerks in a pub," he said. Then shook his head, "No, I don't think there was any of that romantic stuff. I think Connor just really needed someone to talk to and be gentle with him. So, for relationships, I have never heard him tell of any. I don't know if he thought he was worth liking anyone."

Stephen looked concerned by that statement. "What do you mean by that?"

There was a pause, "He told me once while we were working about his professor's assistant that he thought was really cute, and who he couldn't take his eyes off of during their lectures." Abby stared at Stephen. "But then he laughed and said something like 'caring is idiotic' and I caught him mumble something like 'I'm not worth shit like that'. I mean, I understand low self-esteem. I have low self-esteem. But even I hope I will find someone who I will love. This was different. It was almost a broken sense of self-worth."

There were some glimmering pieces that were starting to make sense about Connor's personality. How he would ask for more work, from anyone. He would bound in to any room in the ARC to help anyone when he thought he heard any sign of trouble. He would complete any task, no matter what department asked it. Stephen even thought that he caught him cleaning the locker room once. It seemed that they were the ones that now needed to help him.

Pierce sat next to Connor's bed, just watching him. Connor was ashamed, and frustrated, and embarrassed. He looked around, anywhere but at the Psychiatrist. There was no one else around, everyone left to give them privacy. Cutter was around, watching from a distance.

"Connor," Pierce said gently "Your friends are concerned about you."

Tears started to pool in his eyes as Connor shook his head slowly "No, no, no no no no!"

"What do you mean 'no?'" Pierce asked, "'No,' they aren't your friends, or 'no' they aren't worried?"

Connor was still shaking his head, finally he dropped it into his hands and pulled his knees up to support his elbows. "I can't –" he started crying, "It's not –"

"Words, Connor," The therapist urged gently, "use your words,"

Instead Connor flung himself at the man's trousers, going for the zipper. Pierce saw Cutter jump up watching the interaction, and held him back with a look. The therapist had been confronted by this before, so he put his hand on Connor's shoulder and gently pushed him back into bed. Connor hung his head in shame. "Connor, look at me" Pierce said firmly

Slowly brown eyes raised to meet hazel. "Why would you think you don't have friends, or they aren't worried?" Pierce said, his eyes gently prodding the student's soul.

"They shouldn't" he said softly. "I'm not worth caring about." Then his eyes glazed as if reciting words he had heard a thousand times, "I am worthless, I will never amount to anything, a quick shag is all I will ever be useful for, I should give up while I can, no one will ever love me, I am dirty, I am -," Pierce placed a finger over his lips, cutting him off.

"Do you really believe all that Connor?" the brown eyes that were staring into the distance started welling with tears again. "So why do you work here?"

Connor shrugged "I can, I'm here, they haven't found a replacement yet. It's ok, they will." He nodded as if reassuring himself. "I'm useless so they should find someone better." He stared down at his lap. Then suddenly he went after Pierce's trousers again, with a pleading look in his eyes. Pierce pushed him back again gently.

"let's get something to help you sleep, yeah?" Connor was curled up in a ball again, with his head in his hands, tears flowing silently. Dr. Blaine came out and administered a strong sedative and Pierce watched it take effect while Cutter came into the room staring at the boy who was slowly relaxing into his pillows. There were residual tear tracks running down his face and his face had a pained look upon it. Footsteps came up behind them and they turned to see Abby and Stephen join the crowd by Connor's bed, watching him sleep.

"What did Duncan say" Cutter asked.

"It seems that something happened back at home that he doesn't talk about, but it's pretty bad. He has never returned since he moved to London." Stephen started, "He also doesn't ever talk about his family. Apparently, Tom and Duncan started pulling him away from the same pub Becker found him in early on in their second year at Uni. But they think he was going there all first year. Tom became kind of his own therapist/sex relief. Whenever Connor needed to unload, he would go to their place and talk/cry/yell to Tom, and then Duncan said they would 'play really loud music for a few hours and when Tom came out Connor was asleep' so basically, shag him to sleep." Cutter looked thoughtful. "Duncan also said that the times he came over seemed to decrease in frequency over time, so whatever was happening seemed to help. He didn't seem to be going to the pub because he didn't have any new injuries. He also seemed genuinely happier."

Abby added "He also said that he didn't think there were any romantic entanglements going on because he didn't think Connor was actually consider himself worth it."

"That lines up with our consult," Pierce said thoughtfully

Abby continued, "It seems that Connor once told Duncan about" she winked at Stephen, "'Professors cute assistant', but that he shouldn't let things go further because 'caring is idiotic, I'm not worth shit like that.'"

Cutter looked at Stephen, "Do you think those feelings may have resurfaced when he started working closer with us?"

Stephen shrugged, "I always assumed he liked Abby, he always asked me about how to get her to notice him."

Abby snorted, "ever hear of an excuse? We were mates, he is basically my best mate, but no, I don't think he ever actually liked me." she looked sad again. "At least, I thought we were…"

"By the way," Stephen asked, "Where are Jenny, and that new guy, Becker?" realizing that they weren't there with a start.

"They went to the Pub Becker saw Connor at, to look for some more answers" Cutter said, with a sigh. Clearly, Cutter was not happy about this.

"I should tell all you," Pierce addressed them, "Connor sees sex as a weapon – against himself, for him it is a punishment. There is a point that he may try to engage in some sort of sexual act with everyone. Please do not let him." Stephen shifted guiltily. Pierce pretended not to notice. "He is in a very fragile state of mind right now. Think of him as an addict. It's not the sex he needs, it's the punishment. We need to get him off of that. Mostly he believes that he holds no value. Starting from a young age the people around him have continually shattered his self-worth. So, it's not even what he believes anymore, it's become who he is. It seems that he had someone who was able to pull him out for a while, even if it wasn't in the healthiest way possible, but he was doing better. You mentioned he died? Do you know when?" Pierce asked them.

They all looked at each other. "About 8 months ago." Cutter said, "In Connor's arms." Pierce's brow furrowed

"That would cause a nasty back spin. He was already working for you when this happened?" He asked. They nodded. "That explains it. He would need to continue doing what he thought was expected of him. Especially if someone he cared about died because of it. But without the confidence Tom provided, he probably wouldn't have gotten involved in something like this. I don't know what it is you do, but considering the secrecy and everything, it must be important, and he must be intelligent and someone valuable?"

"He's a genius," Cutter said matter-of-factly. "He does his own work, which isn't by any means easy, is always inventing things, and helps all of us with our work as well, sometimes coming in at the exact point when we ourselves figure out that we need help."

"Not to mention constantly putting himself in danger when he has barely any field training" Stephen muttered.

"He saved your skin!" Abby snapped at him, "He has saved my skin, he has saved Cutter's, and Jenny's. Field training or no, we are all lucky to be alive thanks to him."

"He's lucky to be alive too, actually" Cutter said, "How many times has he been injured 'saving our skins'?"

They all fell quiet.

It was Pierce's turn. "I know you think he is just doing it because he cares, and is brave, and he is, but the fact is, Connor is genuinely self-destructive right now. He will do whatever it takes. Your job, overwork, a shag. He is passively suicidal and genuinely does not care about what happens to himself. You guys have to look out for him."

"Passively suicidal" Abby said quietly, "What does that mean?"

"It means he won't try to kill himself intentionally, but he also won't try and avoid anything or anyone that tries to kill him. So, if going out in the field is genuinely that dangerous, don't let him until he is a little better. Or, keep a sharp eye on him. I would also recommend half hour daily sessions with me for at least two weeks and get him to see a Physiatrist for some medication."

"What good are half hour sessions?" Cutter asked

"I'm not going to try to push him, this must be a slow process." Pierce explained "Just a little at a time. Some days he may not want to talk, which is fine. Right now, Connor just need to learn to trust me. In my experience with abuse cases like this, trust is the first thing to go." He anticipated their thoughts saying "I hate to say it, but I honestly don't think he trusts anyone in the world right now. Himself included."

Stephen's heart physically hurt while looking at Connor in that sterile bed. He looked so small and plain, with the single light blue hospital gown rather than his vibrant array of colours and layers. He was on his side, his hands curled on top of one another by his face, it was the first time he had ever seen his hands without the fingerless gloves. They were covered in burn scars. The wrist of his lower hand showed evidence of a few old deep cuts that were normally covered. He wondered if they were on the inside of his other wrist too. He wanted to check, but he also didn't want to move the boy. Dr. Pierce left while Stephen was staring sadly at Connor, without thinking, he made his way to the chair next to the bed and sat down. He went to gently move the hair away from Connor's eyes, but Connor flinched away from the hand and let out a small whimper. Stephen retreated.

Cutter watched the interaction but didn't say anything. Abby went to sit on Connor's bed, but Cutter held her back. "I don't think we should touch him right now." He said quietly. "Why don't we leave him to rest. We all have work to do. He isn't going anywhere. I will tell Dr. Blaine to inform us when he wakes, and to not let him leave."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did Connor get so messed up? 
> 
> we're gonna find out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been so long
> 
> i currently have 7 fics on AO3 up in the air, and another 2 in progress. 
> 
> plus things, keep, happening. 
> 
> TW: rape, abuse, child abuse, child neglect,

_He felt a familiar rough hand gripping his neck firmly and he felt the chill autumn air flow through the house as the man behind him opened the yard door and shoved him through. “Good lads don’t cry,” said a gruff voice in his ear as the hand pushed him down onto his knees on the stones behind the house. “Bad lads must be punished.” He could smell something unpleasant on his Da’s breath as it made its way toward his nose. The hand pushed down on his shoulders, pressing his head down towards the ground, grabbing the belt loop of his trousers and pulling his arse off the stones so he was on his knees again. “Bad dogs are taught a lesson,” Da leered, and with one swift motion his trousers and pants were pulled down, exposing his rear to the chill Yorkshire wind._

_“Da, I –“_

_“DOGS!” Da growled loudly in his ear, “Do NOT SPEAK” the small boy heard the metal of a belt unclink and slide from where it rested on Da’s hips. His arms were held behind his back as he felt leather violently collide with his rear. The boy whimpered but made sure not to let one tear escape. As the whipping continued, he felt pauses, and heavy panting. A long thick fleshy thing worked its way into his little hole at one point but the small boy, his face to the cold stone, couldn’t figure out what the rough texture reminded him of. The panting behind him became heavier as the thing moved in and out of his bottom. He put his hands to his lips, praying that no noise would escape. At one point there was whipping and the fleshy thing, moving weirdly against each other, the belt starting to move up his back. Finally, there was a jerky motion and a sudden wetness spread across the area of his back that had been hit, the thing was removed, and the breathing returned to normal. Da put his belt back on. “Bad Dogs sleep outside,” He rumbled, before picking up something off the ground, and going in, closing and locking the door behind him. The boy sat up and went to pull up his trousers, but they weren’t there. They must have been what Da had picked up when he went in. He curled up in his shirt, without shoes or socks, or trousers or pants or a coat, and shivered, waiting for the cold October night to end and swore to be a good lad from here on out._

* * *

_The child came in while playing with friends, he wanted to show them the drawing he did earlier that week, when he ran into Da in the doorway and he shrank back. He had started primary school that year and seemed to be getting more punishments recently. Da said it was because his “friends” were having a bad influence on him and he needed to set him straight. Da stood there, in the open doorway and glared down at the boy, he had a bottle one hand. He grabbed the boy by the arm and slammed the door behind him. “You really think your ‘friends’ want you around? You should just stay upstairs where you belong, save everyone the trouble of seeing your face and putting up with your shite.” Da pulled him towards the couch. “You are just like your mother, a worthless, selfish, whore, nothing but trouble.” The boy quaked as his Da threw him on the sofa “Good lads obey!” he shouted. Immediately the boy took off his trousers and pants and leaned over the couch, so his arse was facing Da. The boy was a “good lad” he would be a good lad. No matter what. He felt something cold at the entrance of his hole. He peeked between his legs just enough to see the brown glass bottom of something horribly familiar being pushed between his legs. He heard the familiar clink of the belt as it came undone. A rough hand took his shirt and pulled it over his head and shoving the excess in his mouth. His back was thoroughly exposed. He heard the clink of the metal as it whipped through the air and tried not to cry out as the findings hit him squarely in the middle of the back. His breath hitched as the beer bottle was shoved roughly up his arse as the second swing landed, hitting his shoulder. A rhythm began, the boy blinked tears from his eyes time and time again as the belt hit his back. The whipping slowed much earlier than normal, then the bottle was tilted up and liquid flooded his insides._

_“Good Lads don’t waste,” Da said, a smirk in his voice. “Bad lads need to be punished” the bottle was removed, he heard a zip from behind him and something warm pushed up between his legs. It was far larger and hotter than what he had become used to over the years. It slid all the way in with one swift movement and there was a grunt from Da behind him. The boy felt pain shooting through his belly, through his arse, through his chest. Everywhere was painful. Da gripped his wrists and locked them behind his back. He thrust himself, the boy realized quickly what it was that was stuck into him after the bottle, in and out with rapid movements. Then there was a grunt, a new fluid came spurting down the boy’s leg, and Da walked away. Leaving him bent over the couch, aching, bleeding, and exhausted. Knowing he would have to clean it all up if he didn’t want another punishment._

* * *

_“BOY!!” Da shouted up the stairs. The boy ran down the stairs, not looking into his Da’s face, and sat down in front of him, on his knees, eyes on the floor, not saying a word. “What’s this I hear about you correcting the museum on your field trip today?” the boy could feel the glower piercing his skull. The boy didn’t say anything. After living in the house, sole receiver of his father’s abuse for 15 years, he knew when to talk and when to not. The correct answer, was to not, Ever. He grew up fearing that anything he might say might be the wrong thing. “Good lads answer their fathers,” Da said gruffly. He gulped._

_“It was just the names of the dinosaurs.” He said meekly. “I corrected him because he said some of them wrong.”_

_Da did not look pleased. “You are NOT clever, you are NOT useful, you will NOT end up with anything more than a third-rate job like me!”_

_“But I –,” the boy started_

_“GOOD LADS DO NOT TALK” Da roared. “Bad lads must be punished.” Da growled after a moment, quietly. The boy shook with fear and looked outside to the hot midsummer afternoon. “Bad dogs stay outside” there was a nod, and the boy started taking his clothes off. Da shook his head, “Bad dogs get a haircut” The boy’s eyes went wide, and he went outside quietly to await punishment._

  
_Da found the boy sitting curled up next to the door, and grabbed him by the hair, pulling him up to his feet. “GOOD DOGS SIT!” Da shouted in the boys face. “Bad dogs stand at attention.” The boy took the military pose his Da taught him as a child. Da pulled out a sharp knife and ran it against the trousers, slicing them open, he slid them down the front of one leg, then the other, then down the middle by his cock, sliding the sharp blade right down the middle of the flaccid shaft. The boy was quivering in fear. This was new. His clothes were being shredded beneath the knife in his Da’s hand. He could feel shallow cuts along his body. Once all his clothes were off, Da grabbed his hair and started cutting it as short as possible. Until he was completely bald. He did the same thing with his pubic hair. Once he was as bald as possible, Da turned him around and bent him at the waist, putting the boys hands to rest on the wall and opening his legs. The flaccid cock dangled helplessly and the boy blushed. Da took a look at the scars from the endless whippings from the years and started running his knife down some of them. The boy heard a belt unbuckle and a zipper and felt a familiar warmth against the inside of his thigh as the knife started experimenting with different depths over the scars on his back. His teeth clenched, ready for the searing pain about to run through him when he felt two at once. One in his hole, the other running from his right shoulder all the way down to his left hip. Each thrust in after that was accompanied with a cut of the knife. Sometimes shallow, barely able to be felt, sometimes excruciating. Tears had started to fall, despite his every effort to keep them from doing so. “Good dogs don’t cry,” Da said again. There was a particularly hard thrust and the knife moved from his back to his front. In one motion the knife slid through one nipple down to the top of his cock. A long deep cut. Blood was running down his chest, he could feel blood running down his back, and he was starting to feel dizzy. He wished it would stop. He hadn’t eaten enough that week to have enough energy for that. Da never made or bought food, so he had to rely on lunch at school, and during summers like this, it was challenging to get enough to eat. Da also didn’t give him money to get food or ingredients elsewhere. He didn’t have friends after primary school. he was both too nerdy and too messed up. He really just wanted to leave. Which he was planning to do soon. He just had to hang on. Not let Da kill him just yet._

_Finally, it seemed that Da had enough. He was released and sank to the stone. “Worthless,” Da said with a snarl, “Just like your mother.” He was too tired and scared to reply. He grabbed the tattered remnants of his clothing and pressed them to the open wounds on his chest and back. He could feel blood soak through them almost instantly. He hoped he would last the night, because he knew Da wasn’t going to let him in. At least it was summer. He fell asleep with his back to the stone, trying to keep pressure on the worst of the cuts so he didn’t bleed out as he slept._

* * *

_He was sitting in a bar, nursing a beer when a nice-looking gentleman comes up to him. “This seat taken?” He asked. The young man shook his head. “Brian” He held out his hand_

_“Connor” He said nodding his head towards the hand._

_Brian smiled and just said, “You new here, Connor?” Connor nodded. “Do you know that this is a Gay Pub?” Connor nodded again. “Let’s get out of here.” Said Brian, putting his hand on Connor’s shoulder. Connor flinched slightly, but followed the larger man out of the pub. As soon as they hit an alleyway, Brian pushed the boy in and slammed him against the wall Brian went for a kiss but Connor looked reluctant. “No kissing? Fine, let’s fuck,” He spun Connor around so that his hands were against the wall and fumbled with his trousers, pulling them down roughly. Brian pushed his clothed erection against Connor’s bare arse, and Connor braced himself for the pain about to come. He heard a zip and felt something small and wet prying open his hole._

_“Just get it over with.” Connor said through gritted teeth, his eyes shut tight. He felt the fingers pull out and something far larger and hotter take its place against his legs. It pushed in slowly, and the pain he felt started mixing with something unrecognizable as his own cock twitched, a hand moved forward towards his flaccid member and he pushed it away. He pushed himself down harder on the large cock inside him. He felt the man behind him wince and then pull out. Connor turned and slumped to the ground, resting his head against the wall. It hadn’t been enough to quell the feelings of worthlessness and shame within. He needed more pain, someone to screw the thoughts out of him. his head was a mess._

_“You ok, mate?” The guy, Brian, said, kneeling down next to him. He helped Connor with his trousers. “I’m not into BDSM, sorry mate, look for someone else if that’s your thing. Although, it didn’t look like that was your thing.” Brian looked closer at him. “What was that?”_

_Connor shrugged “That’s all I know,” he said, getting up. “Sorry, mate.” He went home, completely unsatisfied. That was the first night he found the relief of the blade._

_The next night, he found himself at a BDSM club._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Becker and Jenny meet people who can enlighten them on some of Connor's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Rape, Abuse, talk of rape, talk of abuse, discussions of S&M and BDSM

Becker and Jenny arrived at the pub just after opening. There were just a few patrons there already and no one missed the high heeled click and perfume of Jenny’s ensemble, noting at once that there was a woman in the club. Becker walked up to the counter and greeted the bartenders in a friendly, casual, but serious, manner. “Phil, Liam, how are you”

“Becker!” Liam squeeled, “Got yourself a lady? I didn’t think you did that anymore!” 

“This is my co-worker Jenny” Becker continued, as if Liam hadn’t spoken. “Is there anywhere we can talk privately?”

Phil put his hand on Liam’s shoulder and they looked at each other, questions in their eyes. “Sure, back here, what’s going on?”

They led the two ARC agents up a flight of stairs and into a small office before Jenny said with a sigh, “It’s about Connor, we think there is something wrong and we need to find out what. We hear he has been coming here since he first started university.”

Becker added, “I told you I was starting a new job the other night when I was here? Turns out, Connor and I are working at the same… Ah… government facility… I recognized him when I was introduced to all the scientists, and Jenny.” Jenny smacked him lightly and he grinned at her. “Anyway, I was kinda teasing him about seeing him with Bernard” Liam and Phil looked at each other warily, “and he looked uncomfortable, and talked about how he wasn’t worth getting to know, and then he collapsed in his lab about ten minutes later from internal bleeding. I guess something about activities earlier that week.” 

Phil sighed and rubbed his neck. “I keep telling him to stay away from that bastard.” Phil said sadly. “He stopped coming here for a good year and a half, I thought he found himself a fella, but then he returned a few months ago and for a while it was once every two weeks, then once a week, now it’s almost three times a week,”

“The BDSM Club has banned him.” Liam explained. 

“Why would they do that?” Becker asked, worried

“What he wanted wasn’t standard compliance. It wasn’t about the rules for him. He actually wanted someone to hurt him. It’s not about pleasure. I don’t think he even knows how to receive pleasure from sex.” Liam went on. “BDSM is about a dominant and submissive giving their absolute trust to one another, giving into the feeling of putting your life in someone else’s hands and knowing they will protect it. Connor doesn’t trust. From my observations, I don’t think he can. He uses sex as a punishment because for him that is what it always has been. A punishment. So whenever he feels he has done something wrong, when he feels shame, or guilt, or any of those emotions he can’t get rid of, he will find someone to physically punish him. Some people like it. Has gotten a reputation around Soho.”

“I heard Bernard talking about a party where he was the guest of honor, the other day,” Phil said in disgust. 

Jenny looked as though she didn’t know what to say. “He is always so chipper at work,” She said, “So carefree and innocent.”

“Sometimes the ones with the happiest faces are hiding the most pain.” Phil replied wisely. “That kid is fragile, emotionally, be careful there Becker.” 

“Yeah, thanks, Liam, Phil…” he said as the two left the office. Jenny and Becker stood there for a moment in silence. Then made their way down the stairs and back out to the street towards the underground. 

* * *

_Connor was lingering outside a S &M club when Bernard first approached him. He had been in a few times and management quickly realised this was not what he needed. Multiple dominants reported him asking them to go far harder than they were comfortable with going, not want a safe word, and not accept his own release. In fact, a few of them noticed that he didn’t even seem to find pleasure in the experience and just kept crying out for more punishment. While they were used to punishing, it was with the intention of sexual fulfilment of their partner, a game both agreed upon as the customer entered. It wasn’t completely unusual to see victims of abuse try to replace their abuser with S&M, but they always tried to report them to the management and ask them to go get help. _

_Therefore Connor approached this time, he saw the woman at the desk, a petite woman with a thick black collar and long dark hair, named Violet, recognised him and turned to fetch her Dom at once._   
_A tall beautiful woman with a blond bun at the top of her head and clad all in leather stepped out in thigh high stiletto boots._

_“Amber,” Connor greeted the woman. She gripped one end of the whip that was wrapped on her arm._

_“I thought we told you not to return.” She said coldly._

_“Please,” he practically begged, “I will do anything, let you do anything, I’m a bad dog!” He dropped to his knees in front of her. “I need, I deserve, the cruelest of punishments…” Violet and Amber looked at each other, concern evident in their faces._

_“You need help, Connor,” she said gently, holding him by the elbow and pulling him to his feet._

_Connor shook his head, “he was right, he was always right, I’m worthless…” his shoulders slumped as he turned, “Da always said no one would want me anymore…” and he exited the building._

_Connor was sitting crouched outside the club with his head in his knees when Bernard approached. Bernard had also been banned from the S &M club, but for the opposite reason as Connor, he was too rough with the submissives, ignored safeword use, and any safety guidelines the shop had for the protection of their subs. He didn’t want to be dominate for the sake of pleasing his submissive partner, he didn’t do the other half of the S&M relationships, where a dom would care and cherish their sub, he just wanted to hurt, to destroy, to subjugate someone. Bernard was a sadist, pure and simple. He got off on injuring his partners, the more he hurt them, the more he enjoyed it. _

_When Bernard first met Connor outside the club, he could tell that this was someone who he could have fun with._

_“Hey, you sub?” He asked casually._

_“Not really,” Connor answered, shaking his head. “I have been bad, I need to be taught a lesson.”_

_Bernard laughed, lust and sadistic intent creeping into the sound, “Lucky for you, bitch, punishment is what I am good at.” He grabbed Connor by the upper arm and pulled him roughly to his feet. Dragging him to the closest alleyway, he pulled off the smaller man’s trousers and pants, bending him forcefully at the waist and shoving him up against a wall. He kicked open the boy’s legs and unzipped his own pants, stroking himself to bring about an erection. He forced his way into the exposed hole with one brutal push. Bite marks appeared on Connor’s arm as he stifled the yells of pain. Blood gave lubrication to the motions and Bernard soon picked up a steady pace. He wrapped his hand around the smaller man’s throat, his hand so big he only needed one hand to completely encompass it, and squeezed. His other hand seized a hip in a vice like grip, using the extra leverage to take Connor deeper and harder. Connor choked and gasped beneath the hand, his head hit the wall in the rhythm of the large man’s thrusts, his hand against the wall unable to prevent him getting pushed further and further into it. Bernard finally loosened his grip as he felt Connor’s gasping start to decrease while under his hand. The man released into Connor and without allowing him time to collect himself, kicked him hard in the chest, out of the alley._

_Connor stumbled and fell, he tried to pull up his trousers but suddenly he was outside the S &M shop again, half naked. A foot kicked him in the stomach again, then lower, a fist came down to meet his face, “Enjoy your punishment?” Bernard jeered. “Next time I will bring some friends and we will take our time in a more private place.” he sniggered and walked away. Violet and Amber ran out of the shop. _

_“Connor!” Violet said kneeling down besides the boy. “Oh my god! Are you alright?”_

_“I saw that bastard Bernard hanging around earlier,” Amber said, a bite in her voice, “Did he do this to you?” Connor shrugged and pulled himself up. He was shaking and blood was running down his legs and from his nose. There was a bloody bite mark on his forearm. Without saying anything, he pulled up his pants and trousers and shrugged off the pair’s concern._

_“Connor, you need to go to the A &E, get looked at.” Violet was worried. “Can I call someone for you?”_

_“Hey, kid,” Amber tried a rougher approach, she put her hand on his shoulder and turned him around. “What happened? Talk to us.” Connor stared up into her face, his eyes strangely less haunted than before._

_“Punishment,” He said simply, and he walked away._

* * *

Jenny stopped Becker before they hit the underground. “Do you know the BDSM club they were talking about?” She asked.

Becker looked slightly uncomfortable. “I may have heard of it.” He said vaguely. 

“We need to see why Connor was banned.” She said to him. “Look, I hold no judgments on my end, ok? You can be into whatever you want.”

“I am not into BDSM!” Becker said defensively. “I have heard of it, that’s all. And yeah, I can show you where it is, it could give us another perspective on what is going on.”

Becker led her down a street that was remarkably clean and looked completely empty except for a red brick building with glass doors. From the outside, it looked completely ordinary. 

Becker opened the door and they entered. A small woman with long straight black hair pulled back in a ponytail, with black leather collar and a matching full body leather corset stood behind a desk that wasn’t visible from the outside. “Becker!” The woman beamed. “Nice to see you again.” 

“Hi Violet,” Becker said, a blush running up his cheeks, not making eye contact with Jenny. “Is Amber around?” He asked. 

“I’m right here,” A tall thin woman with blond hair in a thick blond bun and also clad all in black leather, including a pair of knee high stiletto boots, jacket, corset, and gloves. She glanced at Jenny. “I didn’t think you enjoyed peaches, Becker, you have only ever had bananas when we see you.” 

“This is Jenny, we work together,” Becker introduced the PR woman. “We hoped you guys could answer some questions for us about someone else we work with. Liam said he recommended this place.” She raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh, Honey,” She turned to Violet, “We love Liam and Phil,” She said with relish, “Don’t we darling?” Violet nodded, her eyes cast to the ground, silent. “Who is this coworker?”

“Connor,” Jenny said, not knowing if a last name was needed. “He would have been young, 20 or so.” Amber shot a look to Violet who met her gaze, nodded, then looked back at the ground. 

“Yes, we know him, he came here for a while, but we had to ban him. He was making our doms uncomfortable with his requests.” She said pleasantly, she led them into a back room, and offered them a seat in what looked like an office. It was large and had high ceilings, was painted a deep red and had leather toys all over the walls. The furniture was black but looked victorian. It was an interesting mix of elegant yet intense, passionate but ornate. Somehow, it worked.

“What about his requests were uncomfortable?” Becker asked.

“He never asked for a safeword, he refused to let anyone treat for wounds, or pleasure him, he constantly asked for the doms to go harder or do more, and he wouldn’t let them do any sub aftercare. Which is crucial not only for the subs, but for doms as well.” Amber listed off the redflags she noticed. Becker looked highly troubled, Jenny didn’t know anything about the culture, so she wasn’t sure what to think, but if the look on Becker’s face was anything to go off of, it wasn’t good. 

“Finally, I told him that he needed to go somewhere else.” She said, “That he needed help. He was adamant that he had been ‘a bad dog’ and he ‘needed, no, deserved the cruelest of punishments’.” Her stoic face looked a bit worried. “What happened to him? Is he ok? He never got help, did he?”

“He is going to get it now,” Jenny said firmly. “We had no idea anything was wrong or anything was happening until yesterday when he passed out in his lab, apparently a mixture of internal bleeding from earlier in the week, and being torn and bleeding from, well, inside.” 

Amber put a hand to her mouth in shock, then dropped her eyes and furrowed her brows. “Bernard,” She muttered. 

“You know about Bernard too?” Becker asked, “What do you know?”

“The day I banned Connor I saw Bernard from the window. He has been banned also, for mistreatment of the subs. About a half hour later we find Connor lying half naked with his trousers and pants by his shoes on the pavement right in front of the alleyway by the street. He had a bloody nose and a bloody bite mark on his forearm, plus blood and semen running down his legs. Violet and I tried to get him help and get him to talk about who did that to him, but he just got up, tidied himself, and walked away. When I asked what happened all he said was, ‘punishment’. That was the last time I saw him. That kid has problems, serious issues that no amount of BDSM can fix. He needs therapy.” 

“We know,” Becker said. “We are getting that for him. Thank you for telling us what you know.” The two agents got up to leave. Amber also got up, out of respect. 

“Connor will be alright,” Jenny assured the Dom with a smile, “don’t worry. He has a proper family now who will take care of him.” Amber smiled slightly at her and nodded. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We check back in with Connor, Sarah joins the team, Connor may be back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW; Self harm, possible suicide attempt, low self esteem, shouting at coworkers.

Connor awoke confused and disoriented. Everything hurt, he didn’t move from his position, curled up at the side of the bed, with the blankets heaped over him. He went through what he knew in his head, eyes still closed, he remembered being at Stephen’s, leaving while Stephen was in the shower. He remembered passing out in his lab after running away from the new SF Captain, who he had seen at the pub the night before. He also vaguely remembered a therapist. 

He heard hushed voices next to him, and tried to block them out. Unfortunately, some of what they said came back to him.

“...-is Dad…”

“...my go-…”

“...-s not true!”

“Believes it is…”

“...genius…”

“...’s an idiot…”

“...-t’s crazy…”

“...-nna do?” 

One by one, tears wet his blanket.

“...Help him…”

“Why do-...”

“...not his friends…”

“...his family…”

As he continued to hear those fractured sentences said by familiar voices his blanket seemed to grow wetter, faster. 

“Connor?”

“Connor?”

“Connor…”

He didn’t register his name being called or that the voices grew in volume until a gentle hand was placed on his shoulder. He jumped and flinched away from the hand. He tried to make himself smaller to keep the hand from reaching him, but another one came to find his foot, and another stroked his hair. No, no, no! He thought desperately, They can’t touch me, no one should touch me, stop stop stop “STOP!” He shouted, his hands had come up to grab his head and bring it into his chest, his legs tucked into himself as tight to his body as it could. The hands had been shaken off, but he stayed in his tight ball.

A less familiar voice, gentle, but firm spoke from right next to him. “Who needs to stop what?” It asked. 

“Hands, stop the hands, dirty, filthy, don’t touch,” He muttered, barely audibly.

“No one is touching you now, Connor, can you lift your head?” Connor shook his head. “Why not?”

“Ugly, gross, disgusting, worthless, dirty,” He mumbled, “Crazy, idiot, not my friends, not my family, no family, don’t call my dad, please not him,” He was pleading now, his grip growing tighter behind his head. “Anyone but him.”

There was some inaudible muttering, and then the calm patient voice said. “What did you hear?”

“Believes he’s a genius, crazy, idiot, his dad, what are we gonna do, not his friends, family.” Connor stayed where he was.

“Connor, we were talking about how you were crazy if you think we think you are an idiot, we know you are a genius. we said that you believed that we don’t care about you, which makes you an idiot, and of course we are going to help you, we are not just your friends, we are your family.” The Scottish accent came from the other side of the bed. 

Tears ran down Connor’s cheeks. He shook his head frantically, “no, no, no!” He said, his entire body thrashing, as if trying to shake off the idea that he was loved and cared about. “I’m bad, punish me! Stephen! Punish me again please, I’ve been bad,”

“How have you been bad, Connor?” Asked the gentle voice on his right. 

“Think I’m smart, correct people, solve problems, talk without permission, bad, bad, bad!” He started hitting his head. “Out too late, create problems for others, think I can do things, need to be taught my place, bad dogs sleep outside, bad dogs don’t eat, bad dogs get punished, bad dogs don’t go to school, bad dogs deserve to be treated like bad dogs. Connor is a bad dog, Connor is a bad dog, Connor is a bad dog.” He kept repeating the mantra while hitting himself in the head until fell asleep. 

* * *

Dr Pierce had called Dr Blaine to administer another sedative, and he, Cutter, Stephen, Abby and Jenny watched as their brilliant tech stopped hitting himself and fell asleep. 

Cutter looked worried and troubled. Pierce looked thoughtful, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. He glanced at Stephen. “You didn’t mention that you slept with him.” He noted. 

“I don’t remember what happened, actually.” Stephen admitted. “I looked at my phone and it turned out that I called Connor over while I was drunk, but all I know is I woke up with him naked next to me, I went to vomit because of the alcohol the night before and take a shower, and when I came out, he had gone. He had erased all trace of himself from the apartment, he put the sheets in the washer, changed the bedding, folded my dirty clothes, gone out and gotten me a newspaper, and left out some paracetamol and a glass of water, he also wrote ‘nothing happened’ at the bottom of the newspaper in pencil. What I found most odd about that was that it was in pencil, because I have dozens of pens around, but he must have had to go into his own bag for the pencil, and paracetamol because I keep that in my bathroom where I was.” 

Dr. Pierce looked pensive. “He must have thought that you getting up to vomit was your way of rejecting him. I’m guessing in his mind, you were sick because of what you did with him, not because of the alcohol. He probably wanted to create the illusion that it was just a bad dream. On your end. On his end he probably didn’t get what he needed, you seem like too gentle of a guy to give him the sort of pain he would need, and even if he tried to sleep with you out of a more wholesome reason, he isn’t emotionally ready for it, so he would just feel as if he failed.” 

Stephen shook his head, “I am not interested in hurting someone to get off, I like seeing them in pleasure, not in pain.” 

“Since Connor doesn’t associate sex with pleasure, that would be difficult for him.” Pierce said, looking at Stephen. “He needs to accept that he is worthy enough to be loved, and that people love him, he needs the emotional bond before a physical one has even the slightest chance of being a possibility.” Pierce looked at all of them. “That goes for women as well, if he is to be intimate with a woman, he needs to be emotionally open enough to embrace the pleasure the intimacy will bring.” 

“How do we get him there?” Cutter asked, “I mean, on an emotionally healthy path.” 

“He seems to have deeper issues than I realized,” Pierce said, “Stemming from his early childhood. Someone in his family was probably jealous of his intellect and tried to keep him from fully spreading his wings. Someone has been gaslighting him since he was very small, to keep him down. Taking away privileges when he was excelling, taking away necessities when he was being himself, trying to keep him from reaching his full potential. Reversing a gaslighting this strong and intense will take everyone around him, time, and a lot of work. The results should be worth it though, when you see him be even more brilliant than he is now.” 

A loud alarm went off and a red light flashed. Cutter, Stephen, Abby and Jenny jumped in surprise. Connor awoke instantly, still disoriented and scrambled to try and get out of bed. 

“We can take care of this, Connor,” Cutter said, putting a hand on his shoulder, “go back to sleep,” Connor shook his head, and forced his way out of bed, sluggishly traipsing his way towards the hub, pushing through the throng of people gathered cluelessly around his detector and stepping up to the keyboard as he had done a million times before. His fingers seemed to find their way across the command centre without him thinking about it, typing in the necessary algorithms to zero in on the anomalys location. As soon as coordinates pointing to the natural history museum were brought up, it seemed Connor’s intense focus and adrenaline lost to the sedative that he had been given, and he collapsed, asleep. 

Dr Blaine had run after his patient after Dr Pierce came and told him that Connor had taken off to do his job. While he had never seen a person be driven out of a sedated state, he had heard of it happening with intense Pavlovian training. He also heard that it was driven by adrenaline and as soon as the adrenaline decreases below the sedative level, the sedative takes over. So he wasn’t completely surprised when Connor passed out, dead asleep after completing his task. He was able to hold out his hands and catch the boy, lowering him gently to the ground.

Cutter, Stephen, Abby, Jenny, Becker, and Lester, however, were startled by the behavior and looked concerned. “He is just asleep,” Dr Blaine explained to them. “The adrenaline was keeping him awake for a few minutes, and now the sedative has overpowered it. Before you all go, can someone help me get him back to the med bay?” 

“Stephen, take Connor to the med bay, everyone else, get geared up to go.” Cutter said, but Stephen was already gathering Connor up in his arms. “We will leave in 10 minutes.” 

As soon as everyone had arrived at the Natural History Museum, Cutter turned to them all, “I know we are all worried about Connor, and he should be here with us, but we still have a job to do, so let’s stay focused and be professional.” They all nodded their heads and headed inside. 

The Priscithicampus had come from the storage room, there was a researcher still there, and they ended up having to chase a crocodilia into the Thames. Dr Sarah Page, the researcher, ended up staying and providing an insight that Cutter found invaluable, so he asked her back to the ARC. 

When they returned they found Connor awake, dressed, and sitting in front of his ADD. He greeted the team as though the past two days hadn’t happened. In fact, if none of them had seen the breakdown he had in the infirmary, none of them would have suspected anything was wrong. Now, however, Nick was able to see the hints of anguish behind the mask the young man wore, and Stephen saw the stiffness in his body language. Abby noticed the subdued volume and extent of his chatter, and Jenny could see the signs of how he forced himself to exude his normal levels of energy. Becker didn’t know Connor well enough to know what to look for, so he couldn’t help. 

“How was the job?” Connor asked with a dimpled grin, “See anything fun today?”

“A pristichampsus decided to try to swim the Thames.” Cutter said lightly, eyeing his student carefully. 

“No way! A pristichampsus?! Wicked! What did it look like?” He asked. 

“Bi and Quadruped, prehistoric alligator, you know,” Abby said with a shrug, “What you expect. 

“Exactly like what Sobek is depicted to look like,” Sarah added, “The carvings on that relic make so much more sense now.”

“Hey Conn, check out the properties of magnetite and electricity on anomalies,” Stephen said, “Sarah thinks they may be useful.” 

“Magnets and electricity huh.” Connor thought for a moment. “That’s an interesting theory… it makes sense if we consider the Anomalies occurring due to a change in the earth’s magnetic frequency, which would put it on a lower wavelength.” he started muttering to himself and wandered to his lab, his face screwed up in a look of pure concentration. He stopped before he reached the door, “New recruit?” he asked Cutter.

“Dr Sarah Page,” Sarah introduced. “Mythologist.”

“Sarah and Cutter think that the anomalies can be traced through myths and legends,” Stephen explained, “and some of the legends could be explained by a prehistoric creature who was simply not in the right time period.”

Connor thought about this, and nodded, “Welcome,” Then he opened the door to his lab and closed it behind himself, they watched him as he opened a dry erase pen and started scribbling complex equations onto a white board. He tossed the pen aside and grabbed a notebook, flipped to an open page and started scrawling faster than they could keep up with. They saw his mouth moving, as if he was speaking to himself as he wrote. 

“Interesting kid.” Sarah noted after a few moments of silence.

“He is usually much more talkative than this, and far more energetic.” Abby said, apologetically. “You aren’t catching him on his best day.”

“Are you sure?” Sarah asked, “Because it looks like he is doing ok to me.”

“He actually seems to be rather slower than normal.” Jenny noticed. “He often skips writing a lot of the middle equations.” She explained.

“Connor is a bit of a genius.” Cutter explained. “He was my student in Paleontology, but since he has been here he developed the anomaly detection device, - that computer right there - plus handheld versions. He is also constantly inventing gadgets and things for the project.” 

“He also keeps the database,” Abby added. “Basically anything computer related, he does. None of us can do anything beyond normal person computer things, but he can hack the national archive if he wants, and I think he has hacked the Home Office, more than once.”

“Please don’t tell me that,” said an exhausted voice from above. Lester had come out of his office while they were talking. “Bringing in more people, Cutter?” He asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Dr Sarah Page, she would be able to help us trace the origins of the anomalies based on mythological tales and folklore.” Cutter said, defensively. “In other words, to discover more about these things, we need her.” 

Lester pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, I will go get an OSA for her to sign.” He walked back up to his office

“Welcome to the team, Dr Sarah Page!” Jenny said, holding out a hand for the younger woman to shake. 

“It will be nice to have another woman aboard,” Abby said lightly, “Besides you, of course, Jenny.” 

Stephen slipped into Connor’s lab where he was trying to work. He was gazing off into the distance, his pen tapping at the notebook. Stephen reached a hand out to put it on Connor’s shoulder. The smaller man jumped at the contact turning terrified unseeing eyes upon the lab-tech. Connor’s expression changed as soon as he registered it was Stephen’s hand on him. A smile appeared and the fear slipped behind a mask of contentment. “Connor, are you alright?” Stephen asked, hesitantly.

“Of course I’m alright,” Connor said easily, “Why do you ask?”

“You don’t look alright.” Stephen pressed.

There was a flicker, then, “I’m fine Stephen.” Connor said coldly. “What do you care, anyway? Leave me alone.”

“Conn, of course I-” Stephen started but Connor cut him off 

“I said, LEAVE ME ALONE!” Connor shouted at him. He opened his lab door and shoved the older man through it, then slammed it behind him. 

The rest of the team watched Stephen as he was expelled from the young tech’s lab. 

“Everything all right there, Stephen?” Cutter asked his eyes much harder than his tone. “I thought we agreed not to push the lad.” Stephen looked slightly dejected as he wandered back over to them. 

“I just can’t help but feel slightly guilty.” The tall man admitted. 

“It has nothing to do with you.” Abby said, slightly harshly. “This is about Connor. Let Peirce take care of him.”

“Sarah, Why don’t I show you around.” Jenny said, pointedly. Sarah nodded as she followed the PR rep away from the hub and down the corridor. 

“Abby’s right, don’t go talking to Connor as if you somehow feel guilty about everything. It will make everything worse, we need to show him that he is useful, that we need him around here.” Cutter said. “He enjoys the work he does, and it keeps him preoccupied. enough so that he can’t think about other things that are bothering him. We just need to keep him busy.” 

“Professor!” Connor called just then from his lab.

“Coming Connor!” Cutter said, shooting a look towards the rest of the group gathered there, before striding off to the young man’s workshop. 

“I need to take care of some things with my men,” Becker said after a moment of silence, taking off down the hall towards the SF wing. Abby and Stephen nodded to him as he left.

“The animals need feeding,” Abby hurried to the menagerie where she would be able to see and take care of the prehistoric animals that got lost in their time. 

Stephen was left alone in the hub, he ran his large hand through his hair then it joined his other hand covering his face. After scrubbing his face hard, as if to rid his head of questions and thoughts he rambled towards the lab he shared with Nick, still contemplating the situation with Connor. He had no idea what Connor wanted to talk to Cutter about, but he assumed it had something to do with the material and energy discoveries made that day. Stephen thought back to when they entered the Hub, the attitude Connor had assumed when they had returned from the anomaly site was so different from the panic they had seen during his appointment just that morning it was disconcerting. He had wondered why they never known that anything was wrong, and that must have been it. he had acted for so long, it had become his default state. He was just in such a bad place the past few days it had completely shattered the mask he wore, and he was having to slowly rebuild it. 

* * *

Nick studied Connor as the young man told him his initial theories about the findings that day. “I’m going to need to get some more specific readings next time we have another Anomaly.” Connor said, looking through his notes. “The base readings don’t provide the right information for the calculations I am doing.” Connor looked at Nick and saw that he was watching him. “Professor?”

“Can you ask Stephen to get the readings for you?” Nick asked, “I don’t want you in the field right now.” Connor’s face fell. 

“I want to be useful.” He said, “I can be useful, Professor, please.”

“You are plenty useful here.” Nick said firmly, “Hopefully Sarah can help us start to map out the origins of the anomalies, and you can help with that. I don’t think she will be going out in the field much either.” Then his tone softened, “You keep working on your inventions here, ok, Lad?” Connor nodded, and didn’t say anything. “Dr. Pierce will keep coming by to talk to you everyday to see how you are doing.”

The younger man’s face turned stony and he stared at the opposite wall. “I’m fine, Professor. I am perfectly capable of working,”

“I know you are, lad,” Cutter said, “This isn’t about work, do you hear me? All of us here are concerned about you. Even Lester.”

Connor snorted with laughter. “Ok,” He turned back to his work. “I’m gonna get back to work.”

Cutter sighed. “Tell me what readings you need, and we will make sure someone will get them. Whether it’s you, or one of us.” Connor made no sign that he had heard his professor, but he didn’t seem to be doing anything else, so Nick put a gentle hand on his shoulder, pressing through the flinch he felt, kept his hand there for a moment, then left the room. 

* * *

Connor tried not to flinch as he felt Nick put his large warm hand on his shoulder, but it was so sudden he couldn’t help himself. When his professor left a minute later he let his head fall to the table, landing on his hands that were flat against the cool surface. Tears soaked his gloves without him realising they were falling. God, he hurt, why was he hurting. Everything was painful. There was a dull ache deep within his chest that was agonising. He needed it to stop. Was he doing something wrong again? Oh, god. He was being clever. When would he ever learn. He needed a punishment. Maybe that would take this deep ache away. Maybe that would stop his heart from feeling like it was being crushed within his chest. If someone beat him, cut him, fucked him… Why did that pain seem so much more appealing than what he was feeling now? What was it about this crushing sensation that was so unbearable? 

Blindly he fumbled through the drawers in the lab, until he found what he was looking for. Sinking down into a corner, he stripped off one of his gloves. He ran a finger along the thin pale reminders of the physical manifestations he had created so long ago. He never really thought he would be in this position again. Not after he found so many people willing to sexually abuse him. That wasn’t an option right now though. Everyone in the building was watching him far too closely. 

He sighed as he pressed the knife up to his skin. Sometimes he wished that he could just disappear, his troubles with it. He drew the knife across his wrist, watching blandly as the blood trickled out. He constantly wished that he didn’t have the memory that he did, that kept the experiences of his childhood so sharp and clear. He drew the knife again across his wrist, a little deeper this time. He could feel anger welling within. He wished his Da would understand what he did to his only child, he wished his Mum wouldn’t have walked out when he was a toddler, or would have taken him with her, he wished that his Da didn’t drink, he wished he was someone his Da could be proud of, he wished… With each wish Connor drew the knife across his wrist, at a deeper angle and biting further into the flesh than the one before. Each time was quicker, and the blood flowed faster. Connor watched as the deep red fluid flowed out of him and stained his pants, getting all over the concrete floor around him. As he watched the blood flow he felt as though a weight had lifted off his chest. His head fell back against the cupboard and he closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted, the knife fell from his loose grasp, hitting the floor with a sharp clang.

Just as he was about to lose consciousness, the door flew open, “I would appreciate it if you refrain from killing yourself on the premises,” said a droll voice. “There is far too much paperwork.” Then Connor slipped into painless oblivion. 


End file.
